


Contact

by Not_You



Series: Watching [7]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Cock Slapping, Face-Fucking, First Time Blow Jobs, For the First Time in Forever, M/M, Multi, Nick Fury Feels, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:59:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3874846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Much like Natasha, Clint values the direct approach in his personal life, after all the lying he does for work.  "Phil," he says, sitting by the bed and watching Phil eat breakfast off his knees, "I really, really, really need to suck Fury's cock."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contact

Much like Natasha, Clint values the direct approach in his personal life, after all the lying he does for work. "Phil," he says, sitting by the bed and watching Phil eat breakfast off his knees, "I really, really, really need to suck Fury's cock."

"You do," Phil says, putting his last bite of egg onto his last bite of toast in the neat, fussy way that Clint loves against all his own expectations. "I think that working together we could make this happen," he adds, before eating that carefully-constructed last bite and cleaning his plate.

Clint grins at him. "You're great, you know that?"

Phil swallows and smiles. "I've heard something to that effect."

After Clint takes the plate to the kitchen and brings Phil some more juice and his first round of pills, they start planning. Everyone had had a good time playing with blindfolds the last time and Clint only trusts them more now, so the main the hurdle of sight is easy. The trick is going to be giving Fury enough control to feel safe during physical contact, but Phil has known him for long enough that they soon have a workable plan.

Clint sits out the actual consultation with Fury, figuring it'll be easier on him. It must be, because he agrees faster than they were expecting. It still takes some coaxing, though, and Clint spends a few days being very accessible and non-threatening. It isn't all that hard when Fury wraps his arms and his huge coat around Clint and cuddles him. At a moment like that, Clint can just snuggle close and cling like some kind of baby sloth. It's a scene that repeats itself a lot in the week it takes Fury to talk himself into what all three of them want.

Finally, over breakfast on a day off, Fury says that he feels ready. It comes out of silence, and Clint shivers, wondering now if he's ready for this, himself. He's sure as hell not backing out, though, and after breakfast he does the dishes while Fury and Phil arrange the bedroom to their specifications. Clint feels like some kind of hot servant by the time he has the sink wiped of and the dishcloth neatly hung up because Phil will try and fix these things and pull on the stitches, glue, and grafts holding him together. There's no sound from the bedroom, so he goes and knocks.

"Guys?"

"Nick was just leaving," Phil says, and Clint lets him out and then goes in. They just brush past each other, making eye contact for a fraction of a second. Clint shivers, and closes the door behind him. The room is dim, and Nick has hauled in the small, low armchair that Clint likes. The rope is there to keep Nick safe, handy loops already made so Phil will have less to do.

Clint feeling safe is important too, so Phil is very gentle with him as he binds him into the chair. No enemy has ever used silky white bondage rope on him, so the sensory memory of rough fibers and cold metal has no place here. There's just the soft white rope, like an extension of Phil's hands. It's lulling and arousing at the same time, and Clint feels a little syrupy by the time Phil is done, sweet and slow and stupid. In a good way, though, and he whimpers happily when Phil kisses him.

"How do I look?" he mumbles into Phil's mouth, and he laughs.

"Perfect, sweetheart. Perfect." He kisses the corner of Clint's mouth. "You ready for the last part?"

Even more than before Phil nearly died, being blindfolded by him makes Clint feel feelings, so he takes a moment to breathe deeply and to remind himself that he's home and safe and that it will be fucking amazing, and then nods, even though Phil insists on words. "Yes," he says, quiet but clear. "Come on, you know I'm down."

"Yes, but it does me good to hear you say it. Close your eyes." He does, and Phil kisses each eyelid and then puts the blindfold on, shrouding Clint in darkness. He shivers all over, and Phil kisses his forehead. "There, love. Okay?"

"Y-yeah," Clint breathes, tipping his head back a little for another kiss on the mouth, which Phil gives him before pulling away, one hand on Clint's shoulder still. "I'm just going to sit on the edge of the bed, okay?" he says.

"Yeah," Clint whispers. "Okay." It's still kind of a wrench when that hand goes away, but Clint takes a deep breath and settles into the chair, letting it and the ropes cradle him.

"There you go," Phil says softly. "Such a good boy for us." Clint whimpers, and can feel himself blushing. "Come in, Nick!"

There's a pause, and then Clint feels the draft from the opening door. He shivers in a way that doesn't have much to do with the temperature, and then he can feel Fury prowling a tight circle around him just like last time. He shivers, because this time he'll finally get to feel him.

"Looking forward to this?" Fury murmurs, and Clint giggles, a little nervous.

"As best I can with a blindfold on, yeah."

"Smartass," Fury says, very fondly, and stops in front of Clint. "Speaking of seeing, you look fucking incredible."

"Glad you think so," Clint says, and then gasps as those heavy hands land on his shoulders. Fury is still wearing his gloves, but Clint can feel the heat through them. For a moment they just sit there, breathing together, and then Fury starts to move. He strokes and squeezes Clint gently, feeling him up all over. He takes his time over it, moving close so Clint is warmed by his body heat and protected from drafts by the heavy flaps of his open coat. It's cozy, and when Clint says so, mumbling and half-melted from a slow and heavy neck rub, Fury laughs.

"I hope it's a little more than that, Barton," he purrs, and steps closer, knees resting on the seat between Clint's, leather caressing the outside of his thighs.

He takes a deep, shaking breath. "Hell, yes, sir."

"Good." He leans in and nuzzles Clint's face, beard prickling and scraping as Clint gasps and struggles to catch his mouth, whining miserably when Fury eludes him. "Fffuck... please sir, please, please," he can't seem to stop himself from begging as Fury groans and bites his neck, soft leather gloves all over his chest. A brutal pinch to both nipples at once makes Clint buck so hard the whole chair moves, and Fury chuckles, holding there and just barely twisting, sucking and biting Clint's neck as he writhes and pleads with him. He almost forgets exactly what it is he needs so badly but then Fury is kissing him and Clint groans, pressing into it as best he can, crying out and losing contact for a moment when Fury gives his nipples a last pinch and then lets go, blood flooding back in the way it does after wearing clamps. Clint whimpers helplessly into Fury's mouth, squirming in the chair and feeling his heartbeat in his cock.

"Jesus," Phil whispers.

"Enjoying the show?" Fury asks him, nuzzling Clint's cheek like a cat and letting him catch his breath for a moment, aching.

"You know I am. Now stop blue balling us."

Fury laughs, biting Clint's neck and making him shiver. "Mm, no one's stopping you, honey." Some rustling and a few tiny, tell-tale noises from Phil let Clint know that he has taken Fury's advice.

"It kinda sucks that I can't watch Phil jerk off," Clint says, "not gonna lie."

"I'll just have to try and make up for that, won't I?" Fury says, and wraps one gloved hand around Clint's cock. He squeezes a little too hard and makes Clint yelp in a not entirely good way, but he eases up immediately and after that it only takes about three and half a long, heavy strokes before Clint is coming, because holy shit Fury is touching him. He jerks him through it hard and fast, until Clint is over-sensitized and squirming. Fury gives him a moment after that, and Clint can hear Phil's soft gasping and the quiet, slick sounds of his hand on his own flesh.

"Fuck," Clint whispers, and then Fury is straddling him, knees planted on the broad arms of the chair, shifting Clint's forearms slightly outward as he braces one hand on the back and opens his fly with the other. It's a clumsy task but he refuses Phil's breathless offer of help, and soon Clint can feel the heat of his cock, and then the first soft, sticky touch against his cheek. Clint turns his head, chasing it with open mouth. Fury slaps him across the face with it for his trouble, and Clint actually gasps in shocked lust. It was pretty hard, for a cockslap, and his head turns a little with it before another sends him the other way. "Fuck," he breathes, "oh fuck, sir, give it to me..."

Fury does, taking himself in hand and cramming his cock into Clint's mouth. Clint was expecting brutal and just takes it, slack-jawed as Fury fucks his mouth like breathing is for other people. He's clutching at Clint's head with that naked hand, three nails biting into his scalp, the abbreviated fingers struggling to do the same. He's growling barely coherent nonsense, about how hot and wet Clint is, how sweet and perfect, and how Fury's going to fuck his throat raw. He's pretty close to doing it, Clint's lips stretched and a little numb, his throat starting to burn just a bit. He loves all of it. He loves the drool on his chin and Phil's gasped encouragement, telling Fury to take what he needs. 

And then Phil lets out a muffled cry and Fury grunts and growls and holds Clint still and makes him swallow everything. As he does, a feeling ripples through him that makes him gasp, "Fuck, I think my mouth just came," when Fury pulls out, making him and Phil laugh in the same breathless and profoundly happy way.


End file.
